


Makeshift Family

by mlder



Category: Blade Runner (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-21 00:38:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12445527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlder/pseuds/mlder
Summary: For the first time in his short and artificial life, K learns what it means to have a family. Fix-it, kind of. Post-2049.





	Makeshift Family

The last thing he remembers is the cold seeping through his dirty and bloodied clothes, his breath shallow and snow falling onto him.

He remembers his body being in excruciating pain but fighting through it. He remembers a replicant named Freysa telling him to kill Deckard for the greater good, for _their_ greater good. He remembers all those faces looking at him, begging him to give _their_ kind a chance. He remembers making his own choice and saving the only person who ever saw him as more than just a serial number.

Next thing he knows, he’s not cold anymore. A pleasant warmth has enveloped his body and his clothes are dry. He takes a few seconds to open his eyes - he thinks maybe it will break the spell and he’ll wake up from what must be a dream if he moves too quickly. Someone else has other plans for him though.

“Good, you’re awake. You should be feeling better.”

He knows this female voice. He opens his eyes and they immediately meet Dr. Stelline’s. Her kind features show what K thinks is unconcealed concern and he’s taken aback. Why would this woman feel any kind of emotion toward him? He reckons perhaps it’s because she’s human and it must feel natural to her. It doesn’t to him.

As he raises his head to assess his surroundings, he feels a sharp and sudden pain shoot through the base of his neck. A thick bandage sticks there, where his tracking implant used to be. He doesn’t need to ask who decided to take it out - Deckard was probably behind the idea. He mentally thanks the old man though he wonders what his use will now be. The LAPD must already be after him since he hasn’t reported back for his Baseline Test. As for Freysa and Wallace, they probably think he died by now.

K runs a bruised hand on his face and through his short hair. “Where’s Deckard?”

Dr. Stelline’s usual composure crumbles ever so slightly as concern washes over her face once more. She stands up and walks over to a window. “He hasn’t been back already. He left about four hours ago to gather some supplies.”

K lays his head back down. He tries to convince himself that the old man can still make it on his own out there and that he’ll be back for the _both_ of them soon.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he almost bled to death on the steps of Stelline Laboratory. He thinks it could be just a few days or maybe a week. He’s lost his sense of time trapped in this hide out recovering from his injuries. Dr. Stelline - or Ana as she insists he calls her, has been taking care of him. Apparently designing memories wasn’t the only thing she was good at. Every day she changes his bandages and makes sure he’s healing properly. Deckard watches them from the corner of his eyes, wincing for some reason whenever he notices K’s bruises are getting worse day after day.

Deckard is worried.

 

* * *

 

“We should head east to New York.” K says.

All three of them are sitting around a small table eating a bland dinner. Deckard sits at the head of the table with K and Ana on each side of it. In a way, it looks almost as if a father and his two children are having a nice chat at dinner time. Except they’re discussing how to escape certain death.

“You don’t even know New York. You think it’s better than here? It’s the same mess kid, except more water and less sand.”

Deckard takes another bite of his tasteless fake meat and chews it while K looks at him with the same expression he has on his face whenever he’s ready for him to cut the bullshit. On the other side of the table, Ana remains quiet and simply watches the two men argue.

“The LAPD is after me. I haven’t reported back in a week, protocol says they’ve got to retire me.”

Deckard can’t help but laugh at that. “Joe, I’ve been running from them for thirty years. How do you think I did it, huh?”

“I told you not to call me _that_.”

His jaw clenches and he feels like he was just scolded. He doesn’t know how it’s supposed to feel like. The closest thing he can associate it with is Joshi reprimanding him after a mistake done during a retirement. He feels the same kind of frustration until a furry creature puts its paws against one of his thighs.

K scratches its head and lowers his eyes to look at what he’s learned to identify as a dog. “Here, boy.” He says as he drops some of his food to the ground.

He relaxes against his chair. He thinks back to where he was just over a week ago. Eating dinner with Joi in his apartment, content with doing his job every day without having to think for himself. Now, thinking is all he does. He thinks of Deckard looking at him with concern in his eyes and teasing him like a _father_ would with his _son_. He thinks of Ana and he instinctively feels the need to protect her like he would with a sister. He doesn’t know why he feels all of those strange and new emotions. He reasons that maybe he’s becoming more human. That maybe, just maybe, he’s finally found a home, a _family_.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be honest, we all need Papa Deckard in our lives so here's my take on it. Lemme know what you think!


End file.
